Floodgates
by JohnlockedForever221B
Summary: As John's memories start to interrupt his and Sherlock's sleep, comfort and affection is given from his sociopathic flatmate. This gesture does not go unnoticed and soon Sherlock is a Psychopath's new pawn in his rather demented game. Rated M for slight language, violence, rape and later smut. Johnlock. xox
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 1: Nightmares

Screams of pain and terror fill John's ears as bullets and grenades target and destroy his fellow soldiers, his friends.

"Retreat to base C12 and rearm yourselves!" John looks about searching for more injured persons and locates his lieutenant almost unconscious, a shard of corrugated steel extending through his stomach. '_Jesus'_ John whispers, fighting back bile. Saliva and blood fly from the victim's mouth as he coughs uncontrollably, bringing John kneeling to his side. He grabs at John's uniform trying to speak but failing.

"Lucas, I'm going to get you out of here but you need to stay conscious…" His words trail off as he takes his friends pulse and finds it slowing, getting weaker every second until the hands desperately hanging onto him loosen and fall to his sides. Tears well in his eyes but did not fall over. He looks up to see that most of his regiment have gone. "Shit…" he curses and starts scrabbling over rubble and debris to join his troops.

Suddenly a blinding pain erupts in his left shoulder, causing him to trip over plaster and he crashes onto the frame of a burnt-out car. He tentatively touches his shoulder and winces, he assesses his fingers to find them coated in blood. He is so close to base, that's why he is out if the field, the enemy had gotten close over the last 4 hours and they were being picked off like flies. He went out to attend to the injured before bullets narrowly missed his head. His response was immediate killing 8 of the enemy before reloading. He tries to move his fingers; they respond. _Good_, he thinks, _at least the bullet hadn't penetrated his nerves or bone, only muscle._ His vision becomes blurry so he checks his wound again. Blood is flowing from it heavily, '_fuck'_ he thinks, it has punctured his brachial artery. He tries to get up but all strength has left him, he rips part of his trouser leg, tying it around his shoulder to keep pressure and welcomed the darkness.

"JOHN!" John's eyes fly open and search for the person that had yelled his name. That voice. It didn't belong here in Afghan.

"JOOOHN!" He screams again and despite his wound and enemy fire he starts crawling over the debris.

"SHERLOCK!" John screams back, searching for his friend.

He crawls behind an Oshkosh M-ATV and finds Sherlock sitting against it. "Joh-." he starts before a soldier pounces on them, bullets puncturing Sherlock's pale flesh. Brain and heart.

John sits up in his bed screaming and gasping for air. It was just a dream. Even in his sleep, the memories and pain he suffered in Afghanistan would always haunt him. He looks at his clock, 04:58am. Thank God he doesn't have to get up at 6:00am today to go to the surgery. He stands up and stretches glancing at himself in the mirror, his top and face is covered in sweat and his body is trembling slightly, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He sighs and walks downstairs to the kitchen. Sherlock comes out of his room, wrapping his navy dressing gown around him.

"I didn't wake you did I?" John asks wearily.

"Yes, but its ok." Sherlock answers his voice thick with sleep. He rubs his eyes and ruffles his hair. "Nightmare." He states but John replies, "Yes." anyway. John fills a glass with water and takes out a variety of painkillers. He chooses two and takes them with the water.

"Sorry I woke you…again." Sherlock rarely sleeps and when he does, John does everything he consciously can not to wake him, although unconsciously, that is a problem. Sherlock waves his hand dismissively and notices John trembling. He strides over to him;

"It was different this time wasn't it?"

"Yes."

Sherlock studies his face, deducing him, and John doesn't object.

"Oh." Sherlock says his face showing surprise and concern. He sits down at the dining room table, the half without his experiments and gestures for John to take a seat. "It's ok." he repeats. John looks at Sherlock and half-smiles. His childish, annoying, sociopathic flatmate was remarkably accepting of him when he is knowingly rude to everyone else. He lays his head in his hands and closes his eyes thinking. He is still tired and sleep starts to overcome him once more. Explosions and machine gun fire ring in his mind along with Sherlock's hurt, desperate cries of his name. He opens his eyes quickly and whimpers. Sherlock is still looking at him, reading him like a book and moves next to him, placing his hand in John's hair. John jumps but relaxes into the touch.

"Do you want to stay with me tonight?" Sherlock asks, it isn't the first time he's been asked this or accepted his offer but tonight something feels different. John wearily glances at Sherlock and nods. They both stand up in silence, John puts the pills away and glass in the sink and then walks over to Sherlock who was waiting for him. Sherlock laces his fingers with John's and they head to his room. They both get under the covers; hands still connected and settle down.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?" he replies drearily.

"Why do you let me stay with you?" Sherlock opens his eyes slightly and gazes at John.

"I don't like seeing you distressed. Friends comfort each other in times of need and you're my best friend." John smiles at that and Sherlock smiles back.

"Thank you." John whispers and squeezes Sherlock's hand. Unexpectedly, Sherlock shifts towards John and lays his head on his chest.

"Good night John." John freezes in shock at this action but rests his other hand in Sherlock's curls, sighs and replies, "G'night Sherlock" before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

…

**A/N - Thank you for reading. It would be so nice if you tell me what you think of it. If you want me to write a specific Johnlock just ask. xox**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 2: Feeling Human

Their arrangement happens whenever John has nightmares but something has changed over the last couple months. John has changed and Sherlock has changed. Whenever Sherlock is alone in the flat, he feels empty, like in his teen years when he was friendless and bullied relentlessly. Sherlock has been in his mind palace more than he has been in the real world, trying to tame the raging emotions which threaten to leave their rooms and consume him. But what is the point? John has changed him so much, why should letting his feelings for him roam free be a bad thing?

'_Because you are scared.' A voice counters._

Sherlock's emotions have been locked away since he was 6, when Redbeard died, and he has been his mind, just his mind ever since. His body is only a shell; a container of organs surrounded with bone and muscle, then encased in an easily penetrable layer of flesh which is meant to protect all of the latter. But now his mind is breaking. He is becoming more human and yes, like you said, it scares him.

'_This is ridiculous; you don't need or have emotions. You are better and more advanced than trivial, petty, unnecessary emotions. Think of the pain you will experience if you give in.' cries a different voice bitterly._

After a while Sherlock opens his eyes and checks the time, 2:53am. He has been lying on the sofa, hands together under his chin, since 9:00pm. He sits up and looks about.

John.

John is slumped in his chair gently snoring. He has stayed with Sherlock all night. A wave of bliss floods him and he clenches his fists rubbing his eyes and then his hair.

"Control. Control." Sherlock keeps muttering over and over. He must decide what to do. Either he can accept his current turmoil and tell John his feelings or go back to being the high-functioning sociopath he thinks he always was. He knows how John feels about him. He's seen it. Whenever he's near him his heart rate increases, his eyes dilate, his cheeks flush to name a few. Whenever they touch; whether an accidental brushing of hands he always goes rigid, blushes or looks at him as if wanting something, wanting Sherlock, or when Sherlock comforts him after a nightmare; the way he leans into Sherlock and wraps his arms around his waist, the ways he's fallen asleep on his chest numerous times, his fingers entwined with Sherlock's and a slight smile on his lips.

_You are his friend and will be nothing more._

So many conflicting feelings, how do ordinary people cope? Yes John is his friend. He is Sherlock's only friend. John is his best-friend and he is Sherlock's. Is this love? Does Sherlock love him? John sits up suddenly in his armchair, his eyes open wide and his breathing quickly escalating as if he's being strangled.

"Sherlock?" he asks quickly. Sherlock springs up and goes to cradle him. Habit.

"Yes, I'm here. Don't worry." They both sit on the sofa and eventually John's head rests in Sherlock's lap and Sherlock begins stroking John's hair. Sherlock doesn't know why he does this but it feels right. John doesn't object but instead presses himself into his palm harder as if he will vanish. Something's wrong.

"Another nightmare?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes, but this time it was different…again. It was like the first one, the first dream I had with you in Afghan apart from you were running next to me, like when we run after criminals and then you got shot down again and I couldn't save you. What good is a doctor if he can't save people that matters closest to them?" John's voice begins to shake so he stops talking.

"John, you have saved me in so many ways. Before you came here I was so wretchedly depressed. I took drugs to numb the pain and the taunting my brain continuously provided me with. Death has tried and failed on many occasions to separate us. I will never leave you John. Not unless you asked me to."

"I will never ask that. Never."

* * *

Next day, 7:05am

Sherlock knows that he will die for this man. He will kill for this man. John is Sherlock's and Sherlock will never let him go. When he wakes, Sherlock will tell him his feelings.

Sherlock leaves John tucked in his dressing gown, sleeping peacefully on the sofa. Sherlock has a cold shower, makes two cups of tea and carefully lifts Johns head so his head was in his lap once more. No more than 10 minutes later, John opens his eyes drearily.

"Morning." Sherlock says softly, smiling down at him. John glances up and smiles. Realisation sets in that he's lying on Sherlock and he immediately attempts to sit up but his weary limbs don't co-operate.

"Oh…er, hey." he says trying to sit up.

"John."

"I know, I'm moving –"

"John" Sherlock repeats holding his shoulders down so he stops moving. "I've something I want – need to tell you. As you know I do not do well with emotions. I consider – considered myself married to my work like I told you the first day we met but these last couple months you have made me something I thought was lost, human. You have made me feel. The main reason for this conversation is because I…I um…"

"Yes?"

"I think, no, know that I am in love with you and I know you are in love with me. Do correct me if I'm wrong although I am rarely wrong with my deductions as you know." Sherlock looks down at John to see him staring up at him with a bewildered look on his face.

_He doesn't like you, see? Just get up and leave him be, NOW. You've got me, your mind. We've been fine for years. Control yourself, control your emotions._

"No." Sherlock says out loud and that causes him to come back to reality. John's expression had now turned to one of concern.

"Sherlock…are you ok? Did you hear anything I've just said?"

"Huh, sorry I was…elsewhere."

John nods slowly and he takes a deep breath. "I said I love you too, I have since the day you deduced my life story. The day I shot that psychopathic cabbie, only thinking of your safety and I barely knew you! I want and need you Sherlock Holmes. Without you I am nothing. Please say something or I'll keep on babbling…" he chuckles lightly. Sherlock smiles and places his hands on either side of John's face.

"I'm glad." Sherlock smiles, his hands still resting on John's face. John begins to blush and so does Sherlock. What happens next, Sherlock surprisingly did not anticipate. John sits up and slightly leans forwards, their faces centimetres from each other.

"Stop me now if you don't want me to continue." John whispers, Sherlock closes his eyes and suddenly he is in his mind palace;

'_What are you doing? You're making yourself vulnerable! Emotions are what destroy people, are what destroy nations. You're just adding another pressure point to your stupidly lenghtneing list as well as threatening yours and John's safety further. _Alarm bells are ringing, everything's turning red and then blinding white, metal shutters begin falling protecting all the doors which holds his dearest memories, his pressure points…the start of deletion. Suddenly Sherlock is in front of John's door and slowly the shutters are falling.

"No. NO!" Sherlock yells his eyes opening abruptly. From the recesses of my mind an image of Redbeard floated to his conscience causing Sherlock to inhale shakily. John cringes and takes that as an incentive to retreat. Sherlock grasps his face firmer, John moving bringing him back to normality. Sherlock shakes his head looking into the bluey-grey eyes before him, he leans forwards closing the gap between them until their lips touch gently. The number of sensations arise that he has never felt before. Sherlock quickly catalogues all of them into John's room and forces the alarms off and the shutters open. _I am in control not you. I love this man and you cannot control that._

John's arms snake behind Sherlock's neck and that touch makes Sherlock's heart flutter. John presses his lips harder onto Sherlock's, not sloppy or erotic, but more passionate and loving. After 4 minutes of what Sherlock now knows to be 'snogging', they separate gasping for breath.

Sherlock can see that john's response has spread to other regions of his body. John looks to where Sherlock is staring and he blushes. Sherlock looks at his own crotch and is surprised to see that he is in the same state. John follows his eyes and grins.

"Are you ok with this? Having a relationship, I mean...with me?"

"I believe our 'make-out' session should have dispelled any worries you have." Sherlock smirks at John as he hugs John tightly.

"Could we carry this on later?"

"I would like that but I'm not very…well experienced and I don't want to disappoint you…"

"Well I will lead and you can follow." John says, his voice seductive and deeper.

Sherlock gulps hard and after a couple more minutes they disembrace, drink their now cold teas, eat toast and get changed.

12:10pm

Sherlock calls Lestrade to see whether there are any interesting cases; someone has phoned Scotland Yard reporting that there has been a murder but when they get to the scene of the crime (an abandoned slaughter house), there is no body, only a round of M4 Carbine (Assault Rifle) bullets, LHOL wire rope dangling off a conveyer belt, burnt documents in a metal trash can and a trail of blood ending at the edge of a smashed window. This will take Sherlock a day at the least, maybe two. However, he can't concentrate, John's being insistent to touch him at every opportunity and lay kisses to any part of his skin when there's no chance of them being caught.

8:00pm

Sherlock gets into a cab with John and head back to Baker Street.

"Are you ok? I thought you would be happy getting a case as complex as this but you don't seem, happy, you seem…in pain" John trails off, his eyes searching Sherlock's face for an answer.

"I can't concentrate."

"What? I've never known that brain of yours to not be able to process anything."

"It's your fault."

"Me? Wha–what did I do? " he asks somewhat jokily as if foreseeing his answer as well as just being defensive.

"I can't concentrate with you about, teasing me. I wanted to kiss you. Hold you. Make you mine in front of everyone. I have never had these urges before." John stares at Sherlock wide-eyed in shock.

"God, Sherlock." John croaks, his jeans becoming too tight and he latches his lips onto Sherlock's in a lust-driven outburst.

"Not in my cab!" yells the driver. They part reluctantly and giggle clenching each other's hands.

"Just wait until we get home; the things I'll do to you, the marks I'll leave showing the world whose you are." John whispers darkly into Sherlock's ear. Sherlock's trousers suddenly get tighter as well and he barely holds back a moan.

John smiles triumphantly and leans on him until they got home.

…

**A/N - ****Chapters 3 and 4 are about the crime scene, whose behind it…not saying more ;) warning already mentioned in the summary. Reviews are very much welcome and wanted. xox**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 3: Lust and Brutality

'_You are a man of the mind not the body.' spits a voice._

"Leave me alone." Sherlock retorts.

"Huh?" says John not catching what Sherlock murmured against his lips.

"Oh, er, nothing." Sherlock replies pressing himself onto John harder to reassure and distract them both. This continues for another 10 minutes. Sherlock is now straddling John's hips, leaning over his body, tongues dancing in each other's mouths like butterflies in a summer breeze.

Sherlock pulls up, although he is his mind, his body still needs oxygen.

"I am so...so, ugh I don't even know!"

"The word's horny." John answers grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"That seems so primitive….LUST! That's it!" Sherlock replies loudly.

"Sshhh," John giggles, "You don't want Mrs Hudson coming up with us like this! She'll have a heart attack!"

"I'm pretty sure she'll congratulate us or say 'it's about time'." Sherlock trails off then leans back down to capture John's lips. Biting and tugging on his bottom lip gently earning a moan from John.

Right then as things started to escalate, their shirts unbuttoned, hair fully messed up and sexual longing filling the room, Sherlock's phone buzzes. Sherlock stops kissing John, sighs and grabs his phone of the coffee table. It is from Unknown.

"Sherlock," John groans, "you know it's considered rude to leave your partner in the middle of well this." John begins trailing kisses up Sherlock's neck, Sherlock shudders and blinks hard to focus his attention on the text. He gets off John's lap and sits in his armchair. John groans then walks to the kitchen to make 2 cups of tea.

The text reads: _Good evening, Mr Holmes. Sorry to interrupt your rather erotic session on the couch but I thought it was time we talked. The case Detective Inspector Lestrade brought to your attention; you should be paying more attention with rather than each other. Because of your lack of respect I have chained up 3 men and 3 women. They will be under my supervision for 24 hours and then I will let them be taken care of by my rather ravenous subjects. If I recall correctly, your father wanted to take you fishing when you were a boy but you were too busy wrapped up in the killing of Oscar Phillips, apparent suicide although his own head was severed from his body, the only prints on his father's butcher's cleaver were his own. A cold case. Anyway, fishing, it's my favourite pass time. Hunting slimy, meaningless creatures. Gutting them. Skinning them. Cooking them. Once you've read this sentence, you will notice that John has gone. _

Sherlock looks up from his phone and like it read, John is gone and the flat door open, blood dripping off the door handle. His body tenses and anger ripples through him, he carries on reading the text;

_You can check, but he's not at 221B Baker Street, he's been sedated and has gone 'fishing' with me. The sedative will were off in 72 hours. He will remain unharmed until then. After 72 hours I will start preparing the fish for supper. Come to the slaughter house, where the case is. See you in 30 minutes…Virgin. xxx_

Sherlock is stunned; his eyes burn from unshed tears and his heart beats fiercely in his chest. Anger begins clouding his judgement and his main plan of action is to kill whoever has taken John mercilessly.

'_Be logical.' his mind interjects._

Sherlock inhales, then exhales. There are 3 possibilities to this situation:

1. Trace the text and inform Scotland Yard. _The signal will __most likely be alternating making it untraceable. Idea scratched._

2. Trace John's phone. Thinking of John causes him to look at John's armchair. On his armchair is John's phone. _Damn. Idea scratched._

3. Comply with this Psychopath and play the game. _Recommended._

Sherlock rushes out of the flat and hails a cab. He gives the address and 30 minutes later he arrives. The long journey allowed Sherlock to assess the situation; _he is a cannibal, he is fascinated with me, he wants me to die? No, he wants to see how I cope under pressure_. He arrives at the building and 2 thug-looking men approach him. They stink of stale whiskey, cheap cologne and piss. Sherlock looks them over, deducing them. _Rapist and murderer. Escaped convicts from HM Prison Belmarsh. One of the left has got a Springfield Armory XDS 4.0 in the waistband of his jeans and the one on the right has a Crocodile Dundee Survival Knife, 15", hunts animals and people in spare time. Both live in solitude. Paid by whoever asked me here. Muscular. Private combat training. Well this is not going to be fun_.

"Welcome." echoes a voice from the doorway. A white light turns on, blinding and disorientating Sherlock. He shields his eyes and tries to focus his vision but everything blurs and white orbs burn on his retina. He is pulled into the structure by the two men. His other senses, on the other hand, are full functioning. Muffled crimes of pain and pleasure, scraping of metal chairs, strike of whips and commanding male voices surround him The smell of burning flesh and blood fill his nose.

"Sherlock." the same voice cries merrily, drawing a long sound on the e, "I have been looking forward to finally meeting you." Sherlock's eyes have adapted better; in front of him stands a middle-aged man, approximately 44, short blonde hair, 6"2 and wears an Armani Collezioni navy suit. His exterior is clear, what is behind the suit is very hard to read. _Abused as a child. Hates society. Thinks we are alike. Heart-broken at 17_. "If you're finished trying to figure me out, let me take you on a tour of the place." Sherlock can see 6 naked individuals, tied up by various objects being rather horrifically used by about 15 men.

"I thought you weren't going to do anything to them for 24 hours?"

"I said that they will be under my supervision for 24 hours and they have been." Sherlock looks away from the men and woman.

His composure remains intact; he looks confident just as if it were any other case. Internally, his mind is frantic. Without John by his side he is slightly panicky, especially knowing that this man could have done or have other men doing anything to him. Blindfolds, whips, ball gags, nipple clamps, sex rings and various leather restraints are laid on a termite-ridden table.

"These are my instruments. When they are used, the recipient makes such sweet music. I wonder what sounds you would make Mr Holmes." Sherlock's brain has been whispering _'danger'_ since he entered the cab; now that nagging voice was rising and becoming more insistent. Sherlock just glared at the man and walked on. The blonde-haired man chuckled lowly and caught up with Sherlock. The rest of the 'tour' was just historical facts about the building and what meats were cut here. The animal's deaths were talked about in great detail and amusement by the psychopath.

"Well, now the tour is over we must get to business." The man clicked his fingers and the two men that had been with Sherlock when he arrived, held him tight, pulled him to a rusty, iron chair and tied him using one of the leather restraints.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asks, his eyes subtly looking about, looking for possible escape routes, any nearby weapons or ways of getting out of the restraint.

"I love watching you deduce. It's kinda hot." the man purrs, circling him, "I will be back in 1 hour. I am paying John a visit. I'm sure in his current predicament he could do with a 'release' if you get my drift." Sherlock struggled in the chair and hissed, "I swear, if you lay one finger on John-"

"You'll do what, huh? I would bring him here next to you but I don't want to give you the hope or satisfaction. 1 hour Mr Holmes. Boys, enjoy yourselves but don't harm him too much. He is a tough nut to crack but he will and I want to be here when he does. Ciao."

...

**A/N - I've written some one-shots for in-between chapters so enjoy :) ****It would be great if you tell me what you think of it. xox**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 4: Open or Closed

A man who was previously chained up like Jesus Christ and has been tortured for the past 6 hours, is currently chained to an operating table, his chest cut open, you can see his heart beating rapidly. Sherlock glances at him; _a politician's son who goes partying and gambling often. A heavy drinker. Goes to law school but is failing. Spends his allowance on drugs. Currently drugged on methylenedioxymethamphetamine. Will die in 24 minutes from blood loss. Organs will be harvested for tonight's dinner._

Sherlock looks away and his eyes land on a young brunette. She is being raped by an overweight man in his late 40's. _Her body is limp, no energy to fight back, tired from orgasm and brutal continual use._ She looks up at Sherlock and mouths "Help me." The man slaps her across her face and starts thrusting into her more forcefully causing silent tears to flow down her face.

He sees another man with only one arm, bleeding out in a corner but being forced to stay conscious. The other arm is skewered on a spit. The man turning the severed arm over a flame grins at Sherlock revealing rotting teeth stained grey and brown.

"Dinner." He states darkly licking his lips.

Sherlock looks away and carries on browsing. A woman, around 22, is being made to lap dance a man around the same age plus or take a year. He is sporting a prominent erection and starts to undo his fliers. Out of common decency Sherlock looks away but looks back when he thinks how these men aren't decent people so he continues looking to further grasp what he is up against. The girl now has her hand around the man's cock and is jerking it tentatively. The man thrusts her head down onto his member so she deeps throats him and sick spills out of her mouth but he forces her to continue roughly fucking her face until he comes into her mouth and kicks her backwards. She immediately scuttles into a dark corner, retching and begins rocking back and forth, raising her hands to cover her ears.

The last man is fucking the last woman while she blows one of her captors. Sherlock stares at her intently, he recognises her. Susan Garfield, M.I.6 agent who was thought terminated on her last assignment to capture an escaped convict, Fabian Hutch. _Could the man who brought him here be him? No, they both look different. Fabian has ginger hair, a welsh accent, green eyes and is 33. His kidnapper is definitely just over 20, has blonde hair, blue eyes and no accent._ Sherlock files this information in case he needs it later. The man fucking Susan has a cock ring on and a remote control vibrator up his ass. Susan has on nipple clamps. Both are blindfolded. Sherlock tries to understand what these 'instruments' do._ Whenever he slows his thrusting the vibrator tempo is increased making him want to release. The vibrator is pushed up against his prostrate causing pleasure but some discomfort._ Assessing the amount of semen dripping down Susan's thighs, Sherlock estimates that they have both came at least 13 times in the time they have been together. Knowing Susan's identity may put him and her in further danger so he notes to mentally refer to her as another woman also making the situation less awkward. _Susan- the woman has nipple clamps on suggesting her nipples are sensitive so if he nears his peak the clamps are squeezed so she comes too._ The combination of cock ring and vibrator causes the man to thrust erratically and he reaches round to squeeze the clamps. _He's been told to do this. Interesting, he hasn't lost his erection. Oh. The cock ring prevents him from losing his erection so he has to continue in order to reach fulfilment._

_The man can choose anything to do with these people yet he chooses sex. Why? He knows I am acclimatised to violence so beating or torturing them wouldn't cause a strong emotional reaction. He could use them to demand anything from the British Government as most of them are of high political importance yet he has alerted no-one that he has these people. I have abstained from sex so seeing it in front of me is meant to put me off guard. I do not care for boring bodily acts so why…because I am a virgin._ Sherlock remembers the text message and how he ended it "Virgin." Sherlock's body turns rigid as he realises what is in store for him. He quickly descends deeply into his mind palace_. Although he has John which causes and emotional response from me, he wants to cause a physical response too. It is the only other thing I care about and which he does not have._ Sherlock thinks about John and how much he wants John to be his first and his last. How they will grow old together. How much they love each other. Sherlock is dragged from his thoughts when he feels a needle pierce his arm. He looks up and see's the blonde-haired man looking down at him. _An hour already? He wonders._

"Yes it's been an hour Sherlock."

"On first name terms are we? Well tell me your name so I may be as familiar."

"My name is Hunter. Hunter Johnson."

"Well Hun-" Sherlock pauses as the drug kicks in. "Diacetylmorphine. Heroin?" He asks.

"Well done. I guessed you would be familiar with it."

"I don't take drugs anymore. You should know that since you know _so_ much about me already."

"Yes I do. I suppose you must miss it but now John is your drug. What a shame he's a little tied up at the moment."

Sherlock tries to respond but confusion and drowsiness overtake him. Sherlock looks around and attempts to speak, "Heroin reduces sexual urges and relieves pain so whydidyougive…" Sherlock slurs his words, his speech slowing. He attempts brushing his hair back but his co-ordination is off and his hand just goes over his head. Hunter picks up another needle and injects Sherlock. Sherlock's pupils dilate and his heart rate increases.

"Benzoylmethylecgonine. Cocaine."

"Well done again. Now your libido will rise rapidly especially with the amount I just gave you."

"A bit of cocaine isn't going to break me or make me desire anything sexually. I've had plenty before to control the symptoms." Although he says that he rushes his words and Hunter smirks, it's another symptom.

"Just you wait." Hunter clicks his fingers and two of the men bring out a TV with a live feed of John tied up to a chair but he looks mainly unharmed with only a cut on his cheek. No semen on him and his trousers were on him and fliers done up as the last time they had been together. _So Hunter had been trying to provoke me. _

"John!" Sherlock breathes.

"Sherlock?" John looks up searching for the voice but shakes his head and laughs, "Oh great, I'm losing it." A man entered the room wheeling in a TV similar to the on in front of him. John can now see Sherlock.

"Sherlock! Where are you?"

"I'm in the same building as you."

"Are there people with you?"

"Yes."

"Open?"

"I will be." John nods slowly and bites back tears.

"Shield." Sherlock whispers which signals John to stay strong. John nods again and straightens his body.

"Well this has been very touching but I think it's time to begin." The TV is moved back a bit but the feed remained live.

…

**A/N - (Open is one of their code words which means harmed or injured. 'Closed' is the response to say that you're ok.) Thanks for reading so far. xox**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 5: You Are Rightfully Mine

"What do you want?" Sherlock spits.

"Your virginity, dear." John's expression drops and panic becomes visible in his eyes. Sherlock remains composed.

"How do you know I haven't lost it already?"

"Oh sweetie, I have kept my eye on you for a very long time. In university you dated a girl for 3 months 20 days in order for her to tell you cases since her dad was a police officer. She loved you and wanted to have sex with you but you not so tactfully told her no and broke up with her saying 'Your usefulness has ended so I no longer need to be with you or talk to you.' before leaving her in tears in the hallway. That was your only serious relationship until you met John. Am I wrong?" Sherlock glares at the man. _There's no point lying to him._ Instead he doesn't respond and looks away.

"You want John to be your first and I'm pretty sure you would have done it by now if I hadn't interrupted you two on the sofa." Sherlock looks at the TV, at John whose eyes read love and worry. Sherlock smiles at him but is then slapped across the face by Hunter.

"_Don't_ get your hopes up, love. There _is _no happy ending for you too." Sherlock moves his head back facing the screen and sees John wince. _Cut on bottom lip and right cheek. Visible swelling will occur in 2 minutes. Spit out blood now or you will choke._ Sherlock spits saliva and blood onto the floor by Hunter's feet and looks up at him coldly.

"John, I hope you don't mind if Sherlock comes with me, in every sense. You see, he deserves someone who understands him and can fulfil every need of his. I can have someone killed by the snap of my fingers therefore a case will present itself and Sherlock will solve it. Oh how I do like watching you work Sherlock."

John face shows pure hatred and he opens his mouth to speak but Sherlock shakes his head slightly so he closes it again.

"Wise decision John."

"Now Mr Holmes, the cocaine should be fully distributed in your bloodstream and you will be feeling its effects." Sherlock already knows this. He feels nauseated, hyperstimulated and is beginning to hallucinate, the feeling of bugs burrowing under his skin making its presence ever known. Sweat's starting to form on his forehead and his body temperature is around 39oc.

"I presume that you are getting very hot under your Belstaff so let's remove a few layers." Hunter unties Sherlock's wrists so he can stand up. Sherlock immediately swings for Hunter but he moves back anticipating this action. Three men immediately approach Sherlock, two hold his arms back and the other sends his fist flying into Sherlock's abdomen. Sherlock's breath escapes him and pain rushes through him.

_Stay calm. Stay calm. His mind interjects._

Sherlock inhales and exhales deeply, coughing a bit and then stands upright, hatred now on his face too. John's mouth is agape and tears spill down his face. There is nothing he can do to stop the events in front of him. Hunter leans into Sherlock and slowly removes his coat and starts unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

"My shirt remains on." Sherlock says stiffly.

"For now." Hunter leans close to Sherlock and licks from his collarbone to his left ear, biting it at the top.

"Don't."

"Or what? I bet you and John did this…no, you haven't got that far."

"What we did - do, is none of your business. Besides, you are not my type anyway." Hunter scowls at Sherlock and motions for the two men to hold him again. His legs are also untied and he is dragged up. Blow after blow of punches land on him. Do not crack. For John you must survive. Sherlock is punched around his temple which causes him to stumble and fall. He is then mercilessly kicked, boots smashing into his cranium, ribs and every other inch of him. He lays almost unconscious in a pool of blood on the floor. All the way through he can hear John's cries and pleas to stop. _At least 2 broken ribs. Severe concussion. Fractured left arm. Contused liver and kidney._ Require medical attention immediately.

Sherlock raises his head foggily, expelling blood and bile onto the floor.

"Hopefully you've changed your mind. Now, we're going to take it in turns to do what we like to you. I'm going to be first. I'm going to be the person that breaks you. I wonder how long you will withstand me before your mind palace fails."

Sherlock is pulled off the floor roughly and he hisses as his aching and bruised body is moved. He's unable to make his limbs move so he lets himself be hauled. He is strapped to the table with leather restraints across his body, coarse rope holds his arms and legs and a ball gag is forced into his mouth. It is the table which previously held the politicians son. Only then does he notice that the 3 men and 3 women have vanished.

"The people? You see, tonight is a special night. It's the night of your death so we are having a feast." He hears a door lock and gunfire echo through the building. Screams start but are cut short. Hunter undoes the rest of Sherlock's shirt buttons and removes his trousers. Sherlock attempts raising his right arm but winces. _Dislocated shoulder._ He internally screams at the intensity of the pain he feels and the fact that he can do nothing to protect himself.

"Leave him alone. Whatever you want with him do with me. Just do it to me and not him." Hunter picks out John's last sentence and smiles.

"Aww Sherlock, your boyfriend wants us to stop. How cute. Ok. I'll make a deal. John can take all the physical abuse you guys would do with Sherlock and Sherlock will be used purely sexually. It's nice having your own sex toy." John shakes his head,

"That's not what I mean." The table with Sherlock on is moved to vertical position so he can see John. A man enters behind John and pulls him by his hair. Three other men enter the room.

"You may want to look away now Sherlock. Your precious John isn't going to look pretty for much longer." John is injected with heroin which slows his reactions and causes disorientation. A man walks up to him and stamps on his leg causing John to cry out. Patella dislocated and tibia broken. The last thing Sherlock sees before he is moved horizontally is two of the three men pull out knives. Hot tears of despair flow from his eyes.

Once Sherlock's clothes are removed, Hunter wastes no time in touching Sherlock's body. Hunter runs his hands across Sherlock's chest, passing over his nipples which rise due to the stimulation. He then presses here and there over Sherlock's neck until he finds- Sherlock uncontrollably arches his back. _What are you doing!? What caused that reaction? Remain in control._ The pressure applied to the back of his neck, _an erogenous zone_ Sherlock realises, causes pleasure which goes straight to his cock.

Sherlock has had a few teenage erections which he rarely touched but instead willed away so he tries to do so now. He closes his eyes and relaxes his body. Think of John's girlfriends. Think of Lestrade. Think of Anderson. Anderson appears in his mind and his cock becomes a bit more flaccid.

"Oh no you don't. April 13th you had an erection so masturbated hoping that would satisfy your bodily needs but the next morning you woke up with another one so meditated until it went away. I was quite intrigued when I watched you do this. I know that's what you are doing now so stop, please. Y'know if you comply with me then this ordeal will be a lot more pleasurable for you." Sherlock continues meditating and Hunter growls. He takes off his own trousers and strokes his cock a few times getting it fully hard. Hunter thrusts deep inside Sherlock and stills. _Burning. Pain. Heat. Intrusion._ Sherlock's eyes fly open and his mouth opens wide but nothing comes out.

"I said please." Sherlock barely withholds a whimper and struggles with the restraints. Hunter grabs some lube and pours some onto himself to make the action easier. He slowly begins moving in and out of Sherlock's hole, relishing in the tightness.

"Oh Sherlock," Hunter groans, "You are a delight." Sherlock tries to say, _The feeling is not mutual_. But the ball gag prevents any coherent words to escape. Hunter pulls almost all the way out and pushes back in hard pounding Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock stiffens as the bundle of nerves inside him is touched; causing great discomfort more than pleasure but the action does cause his cock to jolt. This continues for a while and both their breathing becomes laboured although you can only see Sherlock's chest moving fast rather than hear him.

"Sherlock, I'm afraid our time has come to an end. Pardon the pun." Hunter begins thrusting more quickly into Sherlock and then releases into him moaning.

"Oh you are stubborn." Sweat covers Sherlock's body and he forces himself to hold back. Hunter picks up Sherlock's rigid cock and begins licking the slit, trailing his tongue down the shaft. Sherlock tries to speak again but his words are just mumbles. Hunter removes the ball gag so Sherlock repeats himself;

"Please…stop." Hunter stops licking the underside of his cock, stunned.

"Begging now are we? I never thought the day would arrive where the mighty Sherlock Holmes would beg to anyone, especially me. Your request is denied." Sherlock sinks into his mind palace but it is in chaos. When he closes his eyes he is met with darkness and the occasional door like how his mind palace was when he started building it in his childhood. Some memories and people walk past him but initially there is nothing here to comfort or distract him. He gives up and opens his eyes. Hunter licks his ball sacs, taking them into his mouth one at a time. Sherlock sharply inhales and squeezes his eyes shut. If he continues this much longer you will come.

"I want to see John."

"I will give you this request." John is bought out from where he was. His body is covered in cuts and blood soaks his clothes. Sherlock is in awe. _It's all my fault. But John knows what he's getting into with you. Don't pity yourself, find a solution._

"I-I…John I don't think I can stop myself anymore." Sherlock whispers. John looks into Sherlock's face and smiles accepting that fact. _He always accepts what I do no matter what_. Hunter jerks Sherlock's cock a couple more times and Sherlock releases, trying his best to stifle a groan as his orgasm hits him. After a few minutes Sherlock steadies his breathing and lays motionless, wondering whether to keep or delete the events that just happened. Tears roll down Sherlock's cheeks.

"Gentlemen, our sociopath has cracked!" Hunter booms joyfully. The men all cheer and look at Sherlock sniggering. "He's all yours now. Have fun." Hunter leaves the room.

Sherlock gives up with his restraints and looks around at the other men. Loathing is clear on their faces. One of them walks up to him and punches his jaw. _Mandibular fractured._

"I was in jail for 16 years because of you. You deserve everything you get." Sherlock is unfastened and pulled by his hair to lay on his front. A grimy hand goes in between Sherlock's bum cheeks and he forcefully shoves his middle finger into Sherlock's. Sherlock's body tenses but he does not scream or shout. A bullet shot rings out and the man falls limply onto Sherlock's back. Sherlock forces his breathing to even out, shoving the man off him and wincing as the man's finger pulls out. Sherlock looks about wildly and locates the gunman. Sebastian Moran. _He doesn't belong here. He is Jim Moriarty's right-hand man._ Sebastian places a finger in front of his lips, an 'sshhh' motion and then disappears out of sight. _Moriarty is keeping an eye on me, why does he care what happens to me? Obvious. Jealousy and somewhat cares for my well-being. I haven't finished playing his game._

All men stop what they're doing to pull out or grab guns.

"Someone get Hunter to safety."

"Why? None of us care what actually happens to him."

"Well he's the one paying us and I want my money."

Sebastian comes into sight again, shooting at the men individually. _Where's John? He was right here._ Sherlock starts crawling on the floor for shelter and to find John. John is unconscious on the floor, several bullet holes in his left shoulder. _Heavy amount of blood loss and substantial pain. Worse condition than when he was shot in Afghanistan. He has 30 minutes before he has a seizure._ Someone spots Sherlock and starts running towards him. Sherlock finds a gun under an upturned table and fires. The man collapses instantly. Gunfire and voices cease. There is only silence. Sherlock tentatively stands and turns around, Sebastian is right in front of him covered in blood. Sherlock holds up the gun but Sebastian just shakes his head, takes off his coat and wraps it around Sherlock. _Oh, I'm still naked._ A single bullet shot echoes in the compound and Sebastian falls onto one leg inhaling heavily. He turns around in the direction it came. Hunter. _His hands are shaking. He's taken cocaine as a self-reward for my 'death' Overdosed._ Blood drips from Hunter's nose and ears. Hunter spits onto the floor and runs towards them. Sebastian sweeps his foot so Hunter falls when he is within arm's length. He holds him by the neck and drags him to his feet before Sherlock.

"Do you want to do the honours or shall I?" Sherlock looks at John and then looks at Hunter. _It's the same gun._ Sherlock picks up a shard of glass, his arm protesting at the movement and lacerates Hunter's throat slowly and deeply causing a spray of blood spouting as he punctures the jugular vein.

"That is for John." Sebastian releases Hunter's corpse and steps back from Sherlock.

"Can he walk?" Sebastian asks nodding to John. Sherlock gets onto his knees and tries waking John.

"I can't make him conscious."

"I have a car and a medical kit. Come with me." Sherlock looks over Sebastian. _Ex-Colonel. Best weapon is a rifle. Has genuine concern for both of you mainly John. Follow him but be cautious._ Voices echo at the entrance of the building and Sebastian vanishes, gunfire erupting once more. John stirs slightly.

"John? John please stay awake." John opens his eyes slightly. _Ok good, judging that he can barely keep his eyes open he will remain conscious for at most 2 minutes._

"Sebastian?" Sherlock calls. He can barely move himself let alone John. Both his arms are dysfunctional and his legs are weary. John half carries Sherlock until he blacks out again. Sherlock lies on the floor next to John. Your lungs can't withstand the pressure that your ribs are putting on them. Sherlock inhales deeply. Lack of oxygen to your brain will cause great neurological damage if not helped now. He drags his fragile body following blood arrows made by Sebastian on the floor. Sebastian is nowhere to be seen. Sherlock stops moving completely as he reaches the front door, as darkness claims him he hears a voice above him,

"Keep yourself and Dr Watson well Mr Holmes. Until next time." before he loses consciousness.

...

**A/N - Sorry/Not sorry it's rather long. One more chapter to go. Hopefully I haven't scarred anyone but on the plus side it can only get better :) Thanks for all the follows and favourites, reviews greatly appreciated. xox**

**A/N Update- I got asked why one more chapter, I want there to be a happy ending as Floodgates is mainly about Sherlock's release of emotion towards John...if you don't want there to be a happy ending I will be doing a dark AU story where basically it's all death caused by Sherlock (you'll have to read to know how and why) so that is suited to you blood-loving readers.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock. Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the creators.**

…

Chapter 6: Release and Restoration

Sherlock awakes in a hospital bed; cards and bouquets littering the bedside table. _A card from my parents, Molly, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. The flowers are also from Mrs Hudson._ There is one card that sticks out. It's completely black with a silver magpie decorating the front. He reaches for it wincing as his muscles stretch. It reads, _Get Better Soon Sherlock. JM and SM xx_

Sherlock puts it down again and looks around. _Where is John?_ He presses the button hailing a nurse.

"Oh Mr Holmes, you're finally awake."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"3 days." Sherlock takes in this information and continues,

"Where's John. Dr Watson where is he?" The nurse looks at her forms frowning.

"He suffered major blood loss. He hasn't woken up yet."

"Where. Is. He." Sherlock almost growls. The nurse looks at him suspiciously.

"No I am not going to harm him. He's my…partner."

She relaxes a bit then answers, "He's adjacent to this room." Sherlock starts removing all his tubes.

"You're not allowed to do that."

"I've still got the intravenous drip. I'll be fine." Sherlock stands up and falls back onto the bed. _Strong vertigo. Take deep, slow breathes._ He tries again and manages to steady himself. He walks out of the room holding onto the drip and peers into the room next to him. _John. _John is lying on his bed, needles and wires extruding from his body. His face prominently sporting stitches and bruising. His shoulder bandaged and leg in a cast. He enters the room his breathing rapid in worry compared to John's steady beeping from the monitor. He sits in a chair pulled close to John for the rest of the day. His hand holds John's limp one and he eventually falls to sleep lying on John's side. He stays by him the next day and the day after that, being threatened and advised to leave or that they will call the police. Lestrade tells the hospital to leave Sherlock be so they do. On the fourth day John begins to move, his hand tightening on Sherlock's causing Sherlock to wake.

"John?"

"Mmm." John moves his face to see Sherlock but cringes as pain jolts though his neck. Sherlock sits up so John can see him.

"How are you feeling?" Sore but well rested, "How long have you been here?"

"2 days."

"Have you been eating?" Sherlock smiles at John's first thoughts being his health.

"I've had one meal a day. Is that ok?"

"Well it's better than nothing. How long have I been out for?"

"5 days."

"Oh." John stares vacantly at the wall for a couple seconds before looking at Sherlock again.

"Sebastian. Did he bring us here?"

"I assume so."

"Hmmm, ok." John tries sitting up but Sherlock gently holds him down.

"Your injuries aren't fully healed. If you move it could do you more harm."

"Yes doctor." John jokes grinning. Sherlock smiles back and kisses his forehead before standing up.

"I'm going to the canteen, do you want anything?"

"Won't the doctors be coming in soon?"

"No doctors will be bothering us unless I ask for them." John looks at Sherlock his expression showing puzzlement but he just nods and accepts whatever Sherlock has done.

"Ok well I'll have…what time is it?"

"8:00pm."

"Will they still be serving dinner?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll have whatever's hot."

"Ok. I'll be quick."

"Good." Sherlock heads towards the door but hesitates. He turns around and briskly walks back to John and hugs him. John makes an 'oomph' sound but hugs Sherlock back tightly. Although both of them are in severe pain, just each other's touch soothes their souls. They stay like this for a minute before Sherlock heads for the canteen.

After eating dry roast beef, potatoes, under-cooked veg and watery gravy followed by lumpy custard and what is meant to be rhubarb crumble, the doctors assess John's condition and say the he can leave in a week. Sherlock is to leave 3 weeks after John since his condition is graver but Sherlock refuses to leave after John. After a lot of threatening and Lestrade compromising things with the paramedics, Sherlock is released with the instructions that he comes into hospital twice a week and for John to look after him since he is a qualified doctor. John is glad he's going home and glad Sherlock's coming too as he's pretty sure if Sherlock stayed here any longer that one of the doctors would sedate him and tie him to his bed.

_Next week: 7am_

John easily adapts to getting around the flat using crutches while Sherlock does very little to aggravate his arms. The events that happened on days before flood his mind and as soon as he is healed physically, mentally his mind is going into turmoil. They are both still shaken. Sherlock jumps at any noise. He doesn't sleep as nightmares overrun his dreams. He's not eating or drinking, worrying whether the food in the flat is also poisoned like John's tea was. He's not talking much. He's sleeping with John although John is glad he's not alone. They've binned and restocked everything in the fridge and cupboards although there was barely anything in there in the first place.

John knows how to deal with this type of trauma better as Sherlock only analyses the aftermath of these type events. John has been to war and returned with many wounds inside and out. He carries his Sig Sauer P226R in his left back pocket at all times. He takes sleeping pills. They both need to relax so most days they just lay on the sofa hugging; John stroking Sherlock's curls, they never leave each other's sight, they always hold each other's hands, they are inseparable. John accepts Sherlock's silence knowing he will talk when he's ready.

On the third day back at the flat, Sherlock speaks.

"John?"

"Yes?" Sherlock's voice startles him.

"Help me…please." He whispers. Sherlock's face is pale and his eyes slightly red from sleep deprivation. Whenever his eyes shut he is transported to the warehouse tied up and being beaten. Hunter's hands on him and the group of men torturing John. He wakes up screaming; fighting the invisible shadows around him. He's so broken and his mind is failing. John's first instinct is to ask '_how_?' but he knows what to do and the effect will put Sherlock in a worse state than he is in now.

"Are you certain?" John asks walking up to Sherlock. He just nods his head and John brushes a tear off his cheek. Sherlock buries his face into the crook of John's neck and wraps his arms around John.

"I need you to tell me how you feel, emotionally. I know you are trying your best to suppress them but you will erupt soon and it could cause you neurological harm."

"Ok." Sherlock clears his throat and moves them to the sofa.

"When Hunter was threatening to hurt you I was livid and frightened for your safety. That is when he knew I was now a player in his game and that I would comply with anything so you were safe…" Another tear rolls down his face. He continues, "When I entered the building and saw the men and women being raped it was meant to unnerve me. I have seen many victims of rape on cases but seeing it in front of me, their pleas and cries to end their pain was…purely horrible. When they were slaughtered to be consumed it was so barbaric. When Hunter started undressing me and touching me to prove himself as a suited partner I…I" Tears freely fall down his face.

"He called me the virgin; I knew because he chose that word to describe me that it bothered him. I do what ordinary people don't do; I abstained from relationships or anything intimate…'asexual' is what Scotland Yard called me before we got together. I never knew that this man would try to dominate me in such a way…as well as taking you…I feel so sick and violated. If it wasn't for Sebastian we wouldn't be alive." Sherlock slowly stops talking, his pupils blow wide and he closes his eyes.

"Sherlock?" Every barrier Sherlock has built, every suppressed emotion, every room in his mind palace fades away and then springs at him like daggers being hurled from a catapult. John looks at him in concern, deducing the situation for himself. _His minds dissolving._ He shudders realising the agonising pain that Sherlock must be feeling; every taunt and insult burning his mind, every time he's dragged himself home after being beaten up, the numbing sensation drugs provided for him in his teen years. John lays him down in his lap and switches between, stroking his hair, kissing his hands and taking his pulse to check that he's still alive. Sherlock looks dead, his body paralysed but John knows where he is, in his mind palace.

Inside his head Sherlock is overwhelmed battling over 30 years worth of emotions. Sherlock's mind flashes yellow like a light bulb every time he is touched, the outside stimulus registering in his thoughts. _John._ Sherlock yells and scream to release the pain and horror but knows no matter how much he does the pain will never go. He forces his mind to calm, forcing the hell and chaos back to their vaults making sure they are secure before he buries them one level deeper than previously, almost to deletion. Sherlock blinks and sees John looking at him, worry etched into his face.

"It's…I'm ok." Sherlock takes a deep shaky breathe and lies on his side still lying on John. "If you weren't in my life, there would be nothing worth living for. I would have been glad if I died…I began wishing it towards the end. You have saved me from others as well as myself many times John and you continue to do so. I love you more than life itself."

John knows he must remain strong if Sherlock's to fully pull through and remain in reality.

"I love you too, Sherlock." Sherlock wipes his eyes and rearranges them so he is on his side against the back of the couch, body tucked into John's and face on his shoulder. John wraps and arm around Sherlock's waist and sets the other behind Sherlock's head. Sherlock moves his leg so it fits in between John's. They both settle after a moment and John takes in Sherlock's new arrangement. His body is protecting Sherlock's. He smiles to himself. Sherlock's release of tears and emotions send him into a restless sleep cuddled against John.

* * *

John awakes to the sound of rain spluttering on the window and wind howling through cracks. He begins shivering so Sherlock presses himself into John more and grabs the throw of the sofa to cover them.

"Hey." greets John.

"Hey." Sherlock replies.

"Have you been awake long?"

"About 3 minutes."

"Hmmm, ok." John sits up slightly, resting his head on the armrest and Sherlock does the same.

"What do you want to do today?" John asks softly.

"Lestrade of course wants us to give a statement and relay what happened but I've asked for no contact for at least a week. There are no experiments I need to do. I need to call Mycroft or he'll come here but that can wait till later…" Sherlock yawns and rests his forehead against John's, "Crap telly and a cup of tea sound good?" His voice is soft and tired. John absorbs everything and nods, replying,

"Yeah, sounds great." And smiles.

Sherlock smiles back; the smile that is only for John, showing Sherlock as he is not how he wants to be seen and John knows that Sherlock is relaxed but still not himself. John stretches then gets off then sofa stiffly. Sherlock makes a noise at the loss of contact so john grabs his hand and pulls him up too. Sherlock makes them cups of tea and John puts on some toast, the whole time their hands never separating. They return to the sofa, Sherlock leaning into John as they watch reality TV.

5pm

"We should probably get up y'know." says John.

"Mmmm, I like doing nothing all day with you." Sherlock replies hugging John. John looks at Sherlock with adoring eyes and Sherlock looks deep into his. John leans closer to Sherlock about to kiss him and Sherlock shudders; images of the last intimate actions and smell of blood and cigarettes filling his nostrils and lungs.

"Sherlock? Are you ok?" John asks worriedly, stroking his face soothingly.

"I…" Sherlock swallows and shakes his head as if dazed then continues, "I…oh for fuck sake! It seems actions triggering memories brings images of the event in my mind." _I can either kiss John and could relapse into PTSD or I could not kiss him and continue to forget it all. However, John is my partner and intimacy is required. Also I love him._

"Oh screw it." Sherlock says before starting where John left and placed his cupid bow lips against John's. John instinctively wraps his arms around Sherlock's neck and Sherlock keeps his body aloft John's. John moves one hand and starts taking off Sherlock's shirt. When he's bare-chested he presses into John pinning him to the sofa and they begin kissing more urgent and fervent than before.

"Can we move this to either my or your bedroom? I recommend mine as its closest and since we both share it anyway." John lays stunned momentarily at the proposition.

"Yeah, yeah sure." Sherlock smiles and climbs off him, grabbing his hand and leading him to their room. John knows a lot more about relationships, especially the physical side whereas Sherlock knows the chemical side. It doesn't take a genius to see how nervous Sherlock is. He is wading into unfamiliar territory, willingly giving himself to his best-friend.

"It's ok." John assures Sherlock, pulling him in for a light kiss.

"I know. I trust you with my life John; I also trust you with my body."

Sherlock slides back on the bed and watches John approach him. Sherlock bends his neck as John trails kisses licking it and biting over sweet spots that make Sherlock's breathe hitch.

"I…can I…?" John nods and swaps their positions so Sherlock's straddling him. Sherlock starts taking off John's shirt so both of them are now topless. He looks over John's scarred flesh taking in wounds old and new. Bruising is faint over his ribs and his left shoulder is bandaged. Sherlock gently traces his fingers over John's body cataloguing every mark. John raises his fingers brushing over Sherlock's pale chest too. They spend a few minutes just looking over each other's bodies. Sherlock moves his fingers from John's chest to his face, bending down to kiss him. Sherlock adjusts his position on John's thighs which causes their groins to rub and them both to groan in unison and their kiss to become more lust-driven.

"I didn't know I could feel like this."

"You've felt nothing yet." John teases and shifts so their groans grind against each other but with a bit more friction. Sherlock moans a bit loader and John bites his lip. They start steadily grinding against each other, their breathing growing heavier and their cocks growing more rigid.

"Clothes…trousers off now!" Sherlock manages to say in-between moans. He gets off John's lap to pull his and John's trousers off. Sherlock stills looking over John's nude body.

"You're beautiful." John says more to himself but Sherlock smiles.

"As are you." Sherlock's smile slowly falls and he tilts his head, assessing the situation.

"I'm not exactly…I don't know how to proceed. Well of course I know what to do but…can you lead, please?" John looks at Sherlock whose eyes currently rest on his hands. He grabs Sherlock's body and rolls them over. A noise from downstairs disturbs them and they lay frozen in each other's embrace.

"We should probably close the door."

"Good idea." John gets off Sherlock and closes the door. However, their lives together have only just begun.

…

**A/N – The end :) I know bones take ages to heal but I couldn't be bothered to write 9 weeks later etc. :p If you have queries about Sherlock's behaviour because I can think of some contrasting things I would be happy to answer them. I show him slightly weaker due to the fact that he is in a relationship with John and as seen in HLV he will not allow himself to die and leave John by himself (although they're not together in the show…yet). I've already started 4 new stories, just got to complete them then you'll have some more to read ^.^ Thanks so much again for reading and the favourites or following or both xox**


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